


The Spy who Sneezed

by Wizardchester91



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Archer being a big baby, Comfort, Fluff, Gen, I have a cold so why not, Lana isnt sure whether to hug him or punch him, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:30:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6218341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizardchester91/pseuds/Wizardchester91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>International Spies do not get sick! Well....maybe just this once.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spy who Sneezed

Archer coughed as he entered the elevator, eyes glazed behind his sunglasses. His shirt was rumpled, tie crooked, a sock clung for dear life to the inside of his jacket. He felt like shit, idly wondering if he had in fact drank too much, quickly disregarding the thought as he coughed again, wincing at the burning sensation in his throat. Pam frowned. 

"Jesus Christ, Archer! Watch where you are spraying those germs....you look like hell."

Archer raised an eyebrow, blue eyes narrowed behind the shades. "What are you talking about? I'm fine! Spies *cough* don't get sick." 

Pam rolled her eyes, and the elevator opened. Archer stepped out, wondering why in the HELL his mother had the AC running at 7:30 in the goddamn morning. He shivered and stumbled into his mother's office, where Malory Archer was busy briefing Ray and Lana. 

He frowned and poured himself a glass of whatever was in the decanter today- a cursory sniff told him it was  Whiskey, and somehow the slow, warm burn was comforting. 

"Sterling! How many times have I told you- dear God you look aweful!" The harping voice of his mother made him jump, causing him to upset one of the empty glasses on the tray. He deftly caught it, righted it, and spun around. 

"Well you don't look so great yourself today, Mother. The crypt keeper wants to trade makeup tips." He chuckled at his own wit, then noticed the staring. 

"Hey....Archer.... Buddy...." Lana hesitantly started. 

He sniffed audibly; damnit the Whiskey must have loosened his sinuses....grabbing a napkin he Noisily blew his nose, his throat beginning to throb, and shivered. 

"Two things. Why does everyone keep commenting on how terrible I look? I am an image of the Ideal human male! And, also, what the shit mother, is our next mission to the north pole? I'm freezing!"

The blank stares he was receiving made him uneasy.

"Are you feeling alright? I think you might be coming down with something."Lana said softly, a rare look of genuine concern for him on her face. Archer scoffed and rolled his eyes.

" I'm FINE Lana, and no I don't have a cold! I don't get sick...*cough* so just brief me *cough cough* on the stupid mission so I can get to the *sniffle* armoury before all the cool weapons are gone!"

He tapped his foot, and that goofy glare he got when he was being childish probably would have made Lana smirk, except his face was drawn and pale, and clammy, and dear God he really looked miserable. 

Malory spoke up. "Sterling you look positively ill. And as I don't want the rest of my employees catching whatever it is you've got, I'm sending you home."

Archer gaped in astonishment. "Mother! I'm *cough cough* fine! I might be a little achey...and my throat is killing me... And oh my god I might actually be sick." His eyes widened, and he turned to glare at his mother. "I can still perfom! I'm not that sick....if I'm actually sick at all! I wanna go on the mission!" 

Lana stepped forward and started to tug him out of the office, Archer complaining about truck hands, as Malory sighed, pinched her nose, and shuffled through her payroll to find replacement Agents. 

.............

Archer sat, shivering slightly, a blanket pulled over his shoulders, a thermometer peeking from between his lips, glaring at the television, where a rerun of some mindless sitcom was playing. "I don't need a babysitter, Lana. I'm not sick. It's probably just a stupid cold...or something." 

Lana shook her head at his stubbornness, tugged the thermometer from his mouth and Grimaced. "Holy shit. Not unless a " stupid cold" gives you a fever of 103...I'm pretty sure you're actually sick. Huh. Guess you are human after all." She teased, a note of mock wonder in her voice. 

Archer's eyes widened. "A... Hundred...and....you sure that's Fahrenheit?" He dissolved into a coughing fit, winced, and snatched the thermometer from her, a bemused expression on his face.

"Archer will you please just accept that you are, in fact, sick? It's not the end of the world." She snapped, getting annoyed. He was so ridiculous in his obstinate denial of his own mortality sometimes. It was something that had driven her crazy when they were dating, yet came in handy during missions. It wasn't like he was suicidal, he just, either didn't care or didn't register that he was mortal. 

He sighed, shoulders slumped, and coughed. "How? I am the picture of health, Lana! I hardly ever even have to go to a doctor!....which...in hindsight I probably should do more often...." He paused, thoughtful expression on his face, before relaxing into a smirk. 

Lana was about to speak when woodhouse came out of the kitchen carrying a serving tray. "Five minutes early. Excellent work Woodhouse... However I don't remember you asking me what I wanted." 

The old man hesitated. "My apologies sir....your mother called...and ah....specifically requested I prepare this..." 

Lana and Archer exchanged glances. Malory never expressed an interest in her son's health unless he was in immediate danger of dying. Archer was immediately suspicious. On the tray was a steaming bowl of chicken soup that smelled strongly of garlic, and a glass of a suspicious liquid. He sipped it, grimaced, and spat it out.

"Jesus Christ! Is she trying to kill me with terrible cocktail suggestions? Go make me a bloody Mary or something you....you....damnit I had something for this..." 

Woodhouse bowed his head. "Sir....it's an old remedy...A Hot Toddy....ah....tea, and Bourbon.... And honey....and a few other things....sorry about the the taste..." He bowed akwardly out of the room. 

Archer sipped at the drink again, swallowed thickly, and offered Lana a spoonful of the soup. They ate together, and Archer finished, belched, and promptly fell asleep. Lana sighed and snagged his pillow from his bedroom, ignoring the large black padlocked trunk that she knew contained...well there's a reason he called it the fun box. 

She cleared away the dishes and tucked him in, then went and laid down.... Thinking she would get some rest as well. 

**1 hour later**

*cough cough cough*" Lana. Lana. Lana. LANA!!!!" He croaked, shivering and drenched in sweat. His chest was on fire, his head was throbbing and he had to piss. He dragged himself upright, bladder uncomfortably full, and made his way to the bathroom. Satisfied, he crawled back to the bed, starting to climb under the covers, before noticing that there was another body in his bed. He nuzzled into her, his fevered skin flush against her back. She rolled over to realize that he was completely naked. 

"I swear to god Archer if you try anything.. "

He moaned and coughed. "I seriously think I'm dying....am I dying?"

"Archer-" Lana started.

"-Cause I never wrote a will... "

"Archer-"

Fuck it... *cough cough*....uuugggh....you get everything."

"Archer...."

My mother can have...shit....give her...um...*sniff* ....no, you get everything." He mumbled dreamily into her shoulder.

"ARCHER! You are not dying." She finally snapped. 

He blinked. "No need to yell Lana. And that's good ...cause I didn't want to die before I told you I love you. And that your tits are gorgeous."

Lana gritted her teeth. "Archer. Please shut up. Before ******I** end up killing you." 


End file.
